Irritation
by Violetta Caine
Summary: Jasper comes home from hunting in a foul mood. Can Alice cheer him up? Completely Alice's point of view. Rated T for language and just to be sure. Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer and never will be. Sadly.
1. Red Leather Shoes

**AN: Well, I considered giving you the old-fashioned 'I'm new give me a break' speech, but you probably know that one by heart now. So I'll be honest: I'm going to try to do this right, but if I don't I'm leaving you the job of alerting me to it. **

**Now then. I saw that there were very few stories that were in _completely_ Alice's point of view. I've read stories that have snippets here and there, but those are confusing. **

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Red Leather Shoes

I was lounging on the bed, briskly flipping through a fashion magazine. Nothing too interesting about that, was there?

Carlisle was working at the hospital and Esme was painting Bella's portrait from memory for the twenty-eighth time. She was having trouble painting Bella, what with her constantly changing moods.

I raised an eyebrow, contemplating a pair of stiletto heels. They were delicious, a deep, burgundy-colored leather with black stitching. Rosalie would like them, I was positive about that, but I was more focused on what Bella would think of them.

She would look…well, stunning wouldn't describe it, but neither would scrumptious. It had to be had to be both of those combined and more…I don't know, elegant? I let myself ponder the adjective to use.

Dramatic…no that would describe Rose. Striking, glamorous, enchanting, and attractive won't work. Dazzling and spectacular, alluring and graceful, thrilling and extravagant…any of _those_ words might actually describe her looks a little bit. Hey, it was better than _pretty_. I mean, come _on_. Could anyone understate Bella's beauty more than that?

Suddenly, a vision flashed past through my gaze.

I drew the vision closer, like pulling a leaf closer to your face to examine the pattern of veins.

_Jasper was running home from his hunting trip with Bells, Edward, Rose, and Emmett. Rosalie looked royally pissed and Emmett, being Emmett, followed his wife's lead. Edward shot a look at Rose, which showed whose side he was on. He was going to support Jazz on this one. No doubt about that._

_Edward must have listened in on what Jasper was thinking and quietly signals for Bella to follow him. They depart from the group and run off._

_Rose and Emmett glance after the couple and then at Jasper. Jasper glares into the forest in front of him. They run in the opposite direction that Edward and Bella took._

_Jasper looks relieved and I speed up the tempo. It was like hitting the fast forward button. Jasper ran twice as fast and in barely any time at all, he reached the house. I slowed down again, watching with the utmost concentration._

_He storms into the house and, shutting the door, he leans his back against the door. Esme senses the irritation roiling under the surface and slinks outside to hunt. She knows when there is nothing she can do or say to help._

_He runs up to our room and then slowly opens the door, which is surprising. He walks in at a very slow, human pace. I throw my magazine into a corner of the room, where it lands with a loud thud. _

I pull myself out of the vision. They had been hunting about a thirty-minute run from here at full speed. I was still in my pajamas. I let myself flicker through the future, trying to figure out what to wear. When I see the outfit, I smirk. _So predictable_, I think to myself.

I run into my closet and pull out a black tube top and shorts that stop halfway down my thigh. I pull them on without the slightest hesitation. I then dance through another doorway and into the bathroom to consider my hair. Pulling a can of hairspray out of a basket on my ten-foot long, crowded counter, I start arranging my hair.

When I'm finished, it reminds me of how Edward leaves his hair. The similarities are comical.

I then assume the position of a tango dancer and dance with my imaginary partner into the room. When I've finished making a fool of myself, I casually relax onto the bed again.

I consider the shoes a moment longer. No, I decide. Bella would totally freak out if she had to wear them at her next wedding.

Well…I'll buy them, stuff them in a corner of my closet, and save them for a gift some other time. They were _way_ too good to pass up.

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**There are going to be more chapters, as you can probably guess, but I have a ton of homework to do. **

**Please review. It is greatly appreciated. **

**Queen Violet the Fairy**


	2. Honey Colored, Hardwood Floor

**AN: Okay, people. I'm getting really pissed off here. I've been staying up until at least two in the fucking morning writing a goddamn story for you, and I get how much support?? _ABSOLUTELY NONE!!_ What the hell did I do to YOU!! **

**Sorry. I'm just really emotional. My grandma died last night, everyone's crying, and I think that the effect is a lot like what Jasper's talent does to him. **

**Anyways, on a much brighter topic, I'm going to hold the next chapter of the story hostage until I get at least ten reviews. Now, I don't give a crap as to how you manage it. I just need ten reviews.**

**Now get that freaking pointer on the damn 'Go!' button and press down on the left button of the mouse. Next, type a review. Then, click OK.**

**Cool? Get it? Understand? Got it? Are you sure? I mean, really sure? I mean, really, really sure? Like, positive? Good! I'm glad.**

**(Sorry, someone made the mistake of leaving out a bar of chocolate. I'm just a bit hyper. Well, scratch that, very hyper. Oh fine, extremely hyper!)**

Honey-Colored, Hardwood Floor

I continue to flip through my magazine. A few dresses looked nice, but none stood out, now that I knew Jasper would be upset when he came home.

I heard Jasper's footfalls coming through the forest. I threw my magazine across the room just as he opened the door.

He looks over at me, grimaces, and runs to get his book from the nightstand. He quickly retreats to his study.

I suppress a sigh, considering what to do. If I try to comfort him directly, he'll just explode and yell at me. If I ignore him, I'll get the same result. If anyone else gets involved…I shudder and push that thought as far away as it can go. Suffice to say it would be ugly, _very_ ugly.

I got up and walked to Jasper's study, but instead of knocking or going inside I lounge on the floor, facing the door. I stared at the floor in front of me, trying to stay calm. Jasper's anger was going to rub off on me and I had to find a way to calm down.

As I stared at the honey-colored, hardwood floor, I thought of fabrics and patterns and dresses. I emotionlessly put together outfits for each member of my family wear for the following few months. Then, I moved on to special occasions. There would be many proms to come.

I had decided on everyone's outfits but idiotic Jasper's, when said idiot opened the door in front of me.

I sat there, at his feet, staring at the floor as calmly as was possible.

He frowned at me.

"What are you doing?" Jasper asked tersely.

"Sitting," I replied matter-of-factly. "Do you have a problem with that?" His lips twitched.

"Nice try," he replied. He didn't so much as shut the door in my face as slam it.

I continued to stare at the floor. This time, I tried to be as emotionless as I possibly could. It wasn't all that hard. I just held my breath and started counting how many seconds I could hold my breath, then minutes, and then hours.

After what could have possibly been a few days to me, Jasper opened the door again. He might have been calm on the outside, but I knew he was still furious.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked.

"I can hold my breath for nine hours, thirty-five minutes and four seconds at least," I reply, still emotionless. He stared at me. "Is there a problem?" I ask.

"I'm deciding whether or not to put you in an insane asylum for vampires," he replied coldly.

Again, he slams the door, and yet again I suppress a sigh. I consider the future. I have no hope sitting here any longer unless I really wanted to end up in a bonfire tonight. I don't.

I pause, an evil smirk replacing my slight frown. This could get really interesting. By 'really interesting' I mean 'I think you should go get the camcorder because we will want to watch this over a million times more and possibly show the world' interesting.

I run to Emmett and Rosalie's room, grabbing Emmett's CD case. It was one of those ones that can hold two hundred or so CDs. I use my gift to see which pages the ones I'm looking for are on. There are four different CDs. Each one is going to bring a funnier and funnier response from both Jasper and my family.

I turn to the fourth page, pulling out a CD by Britney Spears and one that is a mix of all different artists. The two others are on the eighteenth and twenty-third pages. The Spice Girls are going to be absolutely unbeatable for this occasion.

I run back to my room, knowing all too well that I have two minutes before Jasper comes in and spoils all my fun.

Running to Jasper's closet, I grab a few of his cameras. No one will notice them.

I grab a piece of canvas-like material from my closet that is about thirty feet by twelve feet. I then continue to run downstairs, pausing only to shut the windows and pick up my laptop. Dashing out to the garage, I throw the fabric into the backseat of my gorgeous 911 Turbo. I'll need to get far enough away as to not bother Jazzy with my emotions.

I quickly install the cameras, focusing them on the house, driveway, and surrounding forest. I connect them to my laptop, so if the cameras are destroyed, I'll still have the footage.

Jumping into the car, I drive as fast as the car will go and make several quick turns. Within minutes I've arrived at the hardware store.

I run to the paint department as fast as I can go without making any humans in the area suspicious. I then look at each of the paint samples, painstakingly pulling out ten or so color swatches, including Barbie pink, lime green, school-bus yellow, and traffic cone orange.

I then find two paint rollers and two brushes. They're easy enough to find.

I walk up to the paint counter. The male attendant there is startled by my beauty, but then he smiles. Just after I see that his name is Brad, I get a mega-fast vision of him meeting me by my car, probably asking me out to dinner.

"Can I help you, pretty lady?" Brad asks me, his voice overly friendly.

"Yes, can I have a gallon can of each of these colors, please?" I ask, feeling the ice creep into my voice.

His smile falls a little bit, but he complies quickly enough. More importantly, the vision of him meeting me by my car is replaced with me driving off without having met him. He pulls out the cans and sets them on the counter. "Can I help you get these to your car?" he asks as I swipe my Visa card swiftly.

"No," I reply, "I think I can manage." I put away the card and pick up the paint cans, five in each hand.

"Are you sure?" Brad asks worriedly. "I can take a break and help you."

"I'm fine," I state firmly, and walk out to my car. As I place the paint next to the fabric, I smile.

_This is going perfectly,_ I think to myself, _ab__solutely, positively perfect. _


	3. The Dreaded Author's Note

A/N: I'm sorry for the huge delay. A few weeks after I posted the last chapter, my computer crashed, taking chapter three with it. Since then, I have tried… and tried… and _tried,_ to remember what I had wanted to happen in the third chapter. But I can't. So. For those of you who want me to continue this story, I'm asking that you give me ideas.


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